


Dance Baby Dance

by Persiflage



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ava DuVernay (Fictional), Broadway, Cunnilingus, Dancers, Door Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fingerfucking, Inspired by Photography, POV Character of Color, Strap-Ons, musical theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 11:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18164888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: AU: In which Philippa Georgiou is a legendary Broadway musical theatre star and director, and Michael Burnham is a recent performing arts graduate - this is the tale of their first show together.





	Dance Baby Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I saw [this pic](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/183452649434/is-dying-is-ded-red-alert-gorgeous-black-gal) of Sonequa Martin-Green and the idea for this fic leapt into my head and started beating my Muse unconscious, so I wrote it!

Michael Burnham sits astride a backwards chair, feet bare and heels discarded on the floor nearby. She’s dressed in a royal blue tank and a navy blue wraparound skirt as she waits for her audition for the newest Broadway show from the legendary Philippa Georgiou, and she’s watching, mesmerised, as Ms Georgiou leads a tap routine, one of her famous routines featuring three dozen women dancing in synchronised formation with a fiercely powerful beat backing them. Michael is fairly sure she’s actually about to have an orgasm, she’s so turned on by seeing Ms Georgiou dance up close and personal. The older woman is wearing the full top hat, tail coat, and tight pants ensemble that she’s made famous over the last two decades, and carrying the silver, dragon-head topped cane that is her trademark item on stage.

The dance routine comes to a crashing climax, and Michael comes too, rather embarrassingly. All the waiting performers break into spontaneous applause, and Ms Georgiou sends her ‘girls’ off stage to rehydrate, change their costumes, and stretch their muscles, and Michael watches attentively as the star dancer and producer strides to the side of the stage, then makes her way into the auditorium. Those awaiting their auditions fall silent without a word spoken.

“All right, ladies and gentlemen, here’s what’s going to happen. You’ve each got three minutes to show me your best moves, and afterward you’ll be told to exit stage right or stage left. Stage right means you’ve impressed me and I’ll want to see more from you. Stage left means you’re not quite there in terms of what I want for this show. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad dancer – you wouldn’t be here if you’re not good. It just means that you haven’t matched up to what I’m looking for with regard to this new show. You’ll be welcome to come back for auditions for other shows at a later date. Understood?”

“Yes Ms Georgiou,” choruses the forty performers on stage. 

“Good. My assistant, Mr Saru, will tell you in what order you’re to come forward. Please pay attention to his directions. Following directions correctly is a basic requirement for joining one of my shows. The rest of you, wait in the wings, please.”

Mr Saru is a tall man, at least six foot six, by Michael’s estimation, and gangly with it. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a blue plaid overshirt, which makes Michael blink a little – she’s not sure why it seems so incongruous, but it does. She discovers she’s in the final batch of dancers, so she grabs her shoes and moves into the wings, finding herself a good spot where she can see the stage, and also watch Ms Georgiou’s face.

Michael remains patient through the next ninety minutes. She bends and stretches her feet and legs while she waits, keeping her muscles loose and ready. Some of the dancers are spectacular, and she’s not surprised when Ms Georgiou sends them stage right. Some of the others all too clearly either succumb to their nerves or just don’t quite hit the same mark as the ones already sent stage right, so they’re sent stage left. By Michael’s reckoning about half of the waiting young performers have gone stage right by the time it’s finally her turn to shine. 

She walks out onto the stage, her shoes firmly in place now, and nods at Mr Saru, who’s responsible for queuing up everyone’s music. He nods back and the opening bars of Aretha Franklin’s _Think_ begin, and Michael notes the way that Ms Georgiou straightens in her seat. She hadn’t exactly been slumping in it before, but she’d definitely been sitting fairly relaxed for the last half dozen dancers.

Michael closes her eyes, head lowered, then she begins to sing and move – it’s a more energetic version of the dance performed by Franklin in the _Blues Brothers_ movie, but one she’s specifically created to dance solo, and she’s spent hours practising it in preparation for this moment.

When the final chord fades, Michael looks over at Ms Georgiou, and finds her staring back, an intensely focused expression on her face. She waits with bated breath, and is startled when Ms Georgiou asks, “It’s Burnham, isn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am,” Michael answers.

Ms Georgiou nods. “Stage right, Ms Burnham.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Michael walks off, slipping off her shoes as soon as she reaches the edge of the stage. 

She’s met by another young black woman, who introduces herself as Joann, offers Michael a large bottle of water, then says, a little breathlessly, “That was amazing.”

“Thanks,” Michael says gratefully, but feeling tired too.

“C’mon, I’ll find you a spot to sit down.”

Michael follows Joann further into the backstage area, and finds herself in the dressing room, where the other successful auditionees are congregated. Joann’s found her a seat, and is searching the room for some snacks for Michael when Ms Georgiou strides into the room. Silence falls immediately, and she stares around at them, expression impassive, then she smiles, and Michael thinks it’s like the sun coming out on a dull day.

“Congratulations to you all,” Ms Georgiou says. “You’ve all earned your place here, but don’t think that gives you an excuse to rest on your laurels. Rehearsals will begin in seven days time, and I am going to work you harder than you’ve ever been worked in your lives. Joann will give you copies of the script, and I want all of you back here at seven o’clock sharp on Monday morning.”

She claps her hands twice, then makes a shooing gesture, and the other young performers begin to move past her. Michael’s on her feet, contemplating whether or not she can bear to put her shoes back on when Joann touches her arm and nods over at the producer.

“Ms Burnham, you’re with me,” Ms Georgiou says when Michael looks over at her.

“Yes ma’am.” Michael feels a certain amount curiosity at being singled out, but knows better than to question the older woman – she suspects Ms Georgiou will let her know what she wants when she’s ready and not a moment before.

She follows the other woman out of the dressing room, deeper backstage, then up three flights of stairs into what, it turns out, is Ms Georgiou’s own apartment above the theatre.

“Take a seat,” she says, gesturing at a couple of couches in the main room, and Michael obeys, setting her shoes on the floor by her feet. 

She looks around the room with interest, noticing the stills from various old Hollywood musicals adorning the walls, and a number of small bronze sculptures of dancers scattered about the bookshelves.

Ms Georgiou returns after a couple of minutes carrying a tea tray, and Michael catches the scent of cinnamon, which intrigues her.

The tea tray goes onto the coffee table in front of her, and she watches in fascination as Ms Georgiou makes them both a cup of cinnamon tea, one of which she passes to Michael. 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“No need for the ma’ams,” the other woman says. “Call me Philippa.”

Michael feels a thrill of pleasure at this invitation, and she has to swallow before she can speak. “Thank you, Philippa.”

The other woman nods, then passes over a plate of delicate sugar cookies. “I expect you’ll be glad of these,” she says, and Michael takes the plate with a feeling of gratitude.

“The reason I wanted to talk to you separately is because you’re my first choice for my co-star in my new production,” Philippa says, and Michael has to work hard not to stare in disbelief at the other woman.

“I am?” 

“Do you doubt your skills?” 

“No ma’am,” Michael says immediately, the response automatic, and Philippa smiles. “But to make such a decision on the basis of a single, three minute audition seems illogical.”

Philippa shakes her head. “It’s not made on the basis of a three minute audition.” She drinks some tea while gazing steadily at Michael, and after a moment it becomes clear that she’s waiting for Michael to ask further questions.

“Then what is it made on, if I may ask?”

“You may. I saw your performance in your school’s end of year productions the last two years. I try to get to as many of the dance and drama schools’ end of year shows as possible each summer – it’s a chance to go talent-spotting. I caught yours last year and made a point of asking your Principal who you were because you were so good.”

Michael swallows a mouthful of tea because her mouth has gone dry. She’d played Maria in _West Side Story_ last year – and she’d had the time of her life. “Thank you.”

Philippa smiles. “You were even better this year. Casting you as Jerry in _Top Hat_ was a truly inspired choice. That’s when I knew I absolutely had to work with you.”

Michael feels heat sweep through her body and she bites her lower lip to help her to focus before she responds. “I’ve been watching you dance since I was four years old, and getting to work with you on this show is a dream come true.”

“I’m flattered,” Philippa says, and Michael shakes her head. “Were you already dancing then? At four?”

“Around the house,” she says. “I don’t think my parents saw my dancing as being serious enough to sign me up for classes. Mom was never one of those pushy parents who force their children into being over-achievers. She was determined to let me find my own level. But she and dad were big supporters of the liberal arts, especially the dance and drama schools, and more especially the ones aimed at black children and youth. They brought me with them to see your final end of year production, and I was absolutely mesmerised. For weeks after that, I kept trying to mimic your moves, even to the extent of trying to tap dance with a stick, so mom enrolled me for classes and I haven’t looked back.”

Michael wants to say more, wants to tell Philippa that she’d had a crush on the other woman as a pre-teen, but it’s developed into something deeper and more serious than a crush since her mid-teens realisation that she’s actually a lesbian, but she retains enough self-awareness to realise that such an admission would be awkward at best, and could be downright painful and detrimental at worst.

Philippa nods, looking thoughtful, then begins outlining the story for her new musical _Top Hat and High Heels_ : it’s a queer love story about two women who unexpectedly fall in love – one’s a lesbian but engaged to be married to a man she hardly knows, the other is bisexual and is married to a man who’s a serial womaniser. The pair eventually end up getting married after Philippa’s character begins to disguise herself as a man in order to woo Michael’s character. It’s a surprisingly hopeful story, Michael thinks.

“I’ve got Ronald Bryce and Gen Rhys composing the music. Sylvia Tilly and Keyla Detmer are taking care of the lyrics, and I’ve done the book.”

Michael nods. Bryce and Rhys are up-and-coming composers who’ve done a couple of successful Off-Broadway shows, and Tilly and Detmer are also making a good impression Off-Broadway. 

“Chris Pike is playing my womanising husband, and Hugh Culber is your fiancé. Kat Cornwell is your legal guardian and the reason you’re engaged to be married – you can’t get your hands on your inheritance until you marry. Though of course your inheritance would then go to your husband, given the historical setting.”

“Ugh, men,” Michael says, and Philippa laughs.

“Quite,” she agrees. 

They talk for another half hour, and when Michael leaves it’s with a copy of the musical’s script in her backpack, and the instruction to return at tomorrow at 9am so they can begin working together on their roles.

“There’ll be no singing or dancing at this stage,” Philippa tells her. “We’ll worry about that when the rehearsals proper start in a week’s time. I want us to start getting to know each other, as well as our characters’ stories, because we’ll be the ones carrying this show. We need to begin building a relationship of trust between us before anyone else comes in.”

Michael agrees, eager to begin work on what she senses will be a powerful show. And she won’t lie to herself and pretend that the prospect of working one-on-one with Philippa isn’t a particularly wonderful treat. She will, of course, behave professionally and say nothing to the other woman, but a small part of her is giddy at the thought of getting to kiss Philippa Georgiou.

She heads across town to the apartment she shares with two friends and resolves to read the script before she meets with Philippa tomorrow morning.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

By the time the rest of the cast come in for the full rehearsals Michael’s got her lines down pat, has mastered the intricacies of her character, and had formed a solid working relationship with Philippa that she’s sure is about to morph into friendship.

The first morning involves introductions for everyone involved, cast and crew, a discussion of the show’s historical background, an outline of the first two weeks’ rehearsal schedules, with a day off assigned to everyone at different points throughout the week, and then after lunch, a read through of the entire script.

Philippa soon proves to any doubters that she wasn’t joking when she said she’d work them hard, but no one complains, and Michael finds it utterly exhilarating to be working on a show full time, without classes to interrupt as there had been at school for their end of year shows. 

She and Philippa have breakfast two mornings a week, and dinner together on a Sunday evening, and her respect and admiration for this formidably talented woman grows by leaps and bounds as the days turn into weeks.

By the time the show finally opens, she is completely in love, and has no idea how she’s going to cope when the show’s run eventually ends – although, thankfully, that moment is still three months away. She orders herself not to think about it, telling herself that there’s a good chance that she and Philippa will work together again. She’s more nervous than she’s ever been when Press Night rolls around, but she firmly stomps on her butterflies, and focuses on simply being the best she’s ever been.

The Press Night is an enormous success and every show after that is sold out – Philippa Georgiou’s shows always tend to be a box office success, but _Top Hat and High Heels_ outdoes them all – and Philippa assures Michael that it’s entirely down to her.

“No one’s ever seen anyone like you before,” Philippa says, sounding absolutely giddy. Which makes Michael feel better about her own giddiness. “You are a sensation!”

She swallows. “I never expected to be a Broadway sensation in my very first show,” she admits.

“Well you are. Make the most of it.”

Michael nods, and tells herself that fame is fleeting and that the musical-going public’s interests can wax and wane, just as with any other artform, but these homilies don’t really stop the giddy feeling.

Eventually, though, their three month run ends, and three days beforehand Philippa announces that yes, there will be a cast and crew (and family and friends) party at the theatre after the final show. 

“I’m in talks to take the show overseas, too,” Philippa tells them, then has to pause for the cheers and applause that break out at this news. 

“Where overseas?” asks Chris Pike from his chair alongside Michael’s. The two of them have become very good friends, also, and she thinks if she weren’t so definitely a lesbian, she might well have fallen at least a little in love with him because he’s so kind-hearted, and one of those strong men who feels no need to demonstrate that strength by stomping on others.

“Discussions are ongoing, but England, Germany, and France seem almost certain. Spain and Portugal are also strong possibilities.” Philippa smiles around at them. “Obviously, I’ll let you know more details as soon as I have them, but if you want to be involved in taking Hollywood’s hottest ticket on the road to Europe, don’t go making any other commitments any time soon.”

“I think most of us were just hoping to get to be in Philippa’s next new show,” Chris says quietly to Michael. 

“Definitely,” she agrees. The prospect of a European tour is exciting, but she’s still dreading their last show on Saturday. Whatever happens next, that will still be the end of this particular era.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

Michael’s just coming out of the bathroom, about an hour into the show’s wrap party, when a hand clasps her wrist, startling her badly, but then she turns and finds Philippa behind her. 

“Shh, come with me,” she says in a low voice, sliding her hand into Michael’s.

She’s not quite sure why the other woman’s trying to keep quiet, given the amount of noise that’s filtering through from the stage and auditorium, but she lets Philippa lead her through the backstage area of the theatre, then up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, and she finds herself recalling the first time she followed Philippa up here, some three months ago. Although that time they hadn’t been holding hands, and while she in no way objects to it, she can’t help wondering why they’re doing so now.

Philippa unlocks the door to her apartment, and steps inside, drawing Michael through the door with her. Then she locks it on the inside and turns to Michael. “We’re not going to be missed for a while,” she says. “So I'm going to kiss you now, unless you object?”

“I don't,” Michael says hoarsely, her pulse pounding in her ears and throat.

Philippa smiles, then she cups Michael’s face in both hands, leans in, and kisses her. 

Michael had thought she’d grown used to being kissed by Philippa – after all, it’s happened during every show, including the twice weekly matinee, for the last twelve weeks – but somehow, in some way she can’t begin to fathom, this kiss is different. She isn’t sure if it’s simply the fact that they aren’t on the stage downstairs, or if it’s something else. Not that she really cares – she’s too busy kissing back, her hands clasping the tops of Philippa’s shoulders.

She is slightly startled when Philippa backs her up against the door and drops her hands from her face to Michael’s waist in order to insinuate her left hand under the back of Michael’s shirt, while her right hand rests on Michael’s thigh.

“I want to make you come,” Philippa says, her voice husky.

“Yes,” Michael says eagerly. “Oh yes please Philippa.” She was so wet and ready, her sex throbbing with want and need.

“Darling girl,” the other woman breathes. “I’ve been wanting this for months.”

“You have?” Michael asks, startled all over again. “I’ve been wanting you since we first met, but you never said anything to make me think you were interested.”

“Of course not,” Philippa says immediately. “I wanted people to see your performance for itself. If we’d become lovers at the outset, too many people would’ve assumed that was how you’d got your leading role. Now no one in their right mind would even entertain the idea. Which means we’re free to have as much sex as either one of us desires.” 

She resumes the kissing, her hands deftly unfastening Michael’s pants, then slipping inside to touch her sex. Michael gasps as Philippa slides skilful fingers down over her mound and into her body.

“So wet for me already, darling,” she says, and bites at Michael’s earlobe as she begins thrusting her fingers deep.

Michael climaxes almost immediately, but Philippa just keeps going, fingering her through her orgasm, and driving her rapidly to a second one, even more intense than the first. She twists her fingers around, finding Michael’s G-spot, and then presses her thumb against her clit.

“Fuck!” Michael gasps, shocked, as a third orgasm threatens to tear her very being to pieces.

Philippa strokes her more lightly through the third orgasm, carefully bringing Michael back to herself, then she slips her fingers free and brings them up to Michael’s mouth to suck them clean.

“Good girl,” she says, and makes quick work of unbuttoning Michael’s shirt, pulling the two halves open to frame her bare breasts. Michael finds herself clutching at the doorframe as Philippa’s mouth descends onto her breast and suckles hard on her nipple, which makes her even wetter, although she hadn’t thought that was possible.

After lavishing attention on both her breasts, and incidentally giving Michael yet another orgasm, she straightens up, grabs both of Michael’s hands in her own and tugs her away from the door. 

“Come on, darling, let’s go to bed and do this more comfortably.”

Michael follows her into the bedroom, but she doesn’t have time to register anything except the big bed positioned in the middle of the back wall, before Philippa tumbles her down onto it and strips her out of her clothes.

“What a gorgeous woman you are,” she says, her voice sounding reverent to Michael’s ears. 

She watches as Philippa strips out of her own clothes, ditching the bowtie and dress shirt, to reveal her full breasts and stiff nipples, then she slips out of her pants and panties, before she ditches her socks too. After that she climbs onto the bed and settles on her side next to Michael.

“You’re pretty gorgeous, too,” Michael says shyly, and Philippa smiles. 

“Thank you, darling.” She clasps Michael’s right wrist and presses kisses to her palm, then sucks on her fingers. “How about you fuck me, this time?”

Michael feels desire sweep over again, then she leans up and kisses the other woman. She guides Philippa to lie on her back, then strokes the tips of her fingers up and down her sex before pushing a finger inside.

“I can take more than that,” Philippa says, and Michael adds a second finger, then twists, searching for her G-spot. The other woman moans loudly when she finds it, which makes Michael flush with triumph. “Give me another finger, my darling.”

Michael slides her fingers out, then presses three back into Philippa, who gasps “Yes!”, her hips bucking as Michael speeds up her thrusts. Then she presses her thumb against Philippa’s clit, and the other woman climaxes with a loud yell, her back arching violently off the bed. Michael leans down to kiss her while doing it all over again, and driving her to a second climax, then a third.

Michael thinks it might be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, and it makes want pulse in her own sex. She slips her fingers free, then holds out her hand, and Philippa clasps her wrist and languidly sucks them clean for her. 

“Thank you, darling, that was delicious.” Michael blushes at the praise, then wonders if it’s okay for her to ask for more for herself. Before she can figure that out, Philippa leans sideways across the bed and pulls open the drawer of her nightstand. She pulls out a thick, black, strap-on dildo, then flops onto her back and asks, “Ever use one of these?”

Michael shakes her head, feeling a thrill of excitement coursing through her. Heat and moisture gather in her sex and she willingly lies back again at Philippa’s instigation. 

She puts on the harness, her gaze intent on Michael’s face. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be gentle.” 

“I’m not scared,” Michael says immediately. “I trust you.”

Philippa smiles, then leans down and kisses her, and as her mouth moves hungrily on Michael’s she begins easing the head of the dildo into Michael’s sex. She moans loudly as Philippa steadily moves the dildo deeper – she can feel the toy stretching her walls, and it’s a little uncomfortable, but not actually painful. 

Once the dildo is inside Michael, Philippa stretches her body over Michael’s so that they’re hip to hip and breast to breast. She begins kissing Michael again, then she lifts her hips, pulling the dildo half out of Michael’s sex. The young woman moans into Philippa’s mouth as she lowers her hips again, pushing the toy back into her.

“Fuck!” she gasps, pulling her mouth from Philippa’s to heave in great lungfuls of air. 

“Good, huh?” Philippa asks, smirking.

“Very good,” Michael agrees. 

They find a rhythm, Philippa lifting herself up, and Michael thrusting her hips up at the same time, then Philippa sinks down as Michael lowers her hips back to the bed, and soon they’re both gasping and moaning in pleasure as they move in synchronisation, and Michael realises, for the first time, that sex is a lot like dancing. 

Eventually, after a couple more very powerful orgasms each, they both stop moving, and Philippa eases the dildo out of Michael’s sex and gets the harness off; she draws the young woman in close, and they kiss and cuddle while they recover from trying to fuck each other’s brains out, as Philippa puts it.

“How did you know how I felt about you?” Michael asks curiously some time later. 

Philippa chuckles quietly. “I had my suspicions that first time we talked after the auditions - you were vibrating with tension. I thought it was nerves at first, but then I wondered if it was sexual tension. But the biggest clue was when we kissed for the first time during those few days we were working together before the entire company began rehearsals. You practically swooned on me. And you were far too ardent, so I realised you weren't acting or faking it for the role. After you’d left that first day I had to come in here and get out a toy because I was so fucking wet and horny. I have never come so hard or so often – I was shaking afterwards.” Philippa shakes her head. “I have no idea how I've managed to keep my hands to myself and not simply ravish you before now.“

“I thought about telling you how I felt about you, but I kept thinking that if you didn't feel the same way that I did, it would make it very hard for both of us to keep performing together.” 

“I would have had a harder time holding myself back if you had spoken,” Philippa says. “So I'm not sorry you didn't.” 

She kisses Michael some more, then she says, “I need to taste you.”

“Taste me?” Michael asks, mystified. 

“You've never had someone go down on you?”

“I don't even know what that means,” Michael says apologetically. 

“Oh my darling, you have been missing out. Lie back, spread your legs, and prepare to have your mind blown.”

Michael did as Philippa asked, and was quite astonished when the older woman lay down on her belly between Michael's legs, then held her sex open and began licking and lapping at her.

By the time Philippa’s finished, Michael feels completely wrecked – sweat covers her body, her sex aches (in a good way), and her limbs feel like uncooked noodles.

“I don’t know if I can move any time soon,” she says, still panting for breath.

Philippa gives her the smuggest of looks, then climbs off the bed. “I’m going to get some water, and some cookies,” she says. “You need the energy.”

“Thanks,” Michael says.

She’s finally caught her breath by the time Philippa returns with two bottles of water and a tin of cookies. She hitches herself up into a seated position on the bed, and Philippa passes her the bottles of water before climbing back onto the bed and settling beside her. She opens the tin of cookies, balancing it on her thigh, and they both drink some water before starting on the cookies.

“I feel well and truly fucked,” Michael says at some point after the fourth, or possibly the fifth, cookie.

Philippa chuckles around a mouthful of cookie, swallows, drinks some more water, then speaks. “My darling, that was the plan.”

Michael leans in and kisses the side of her neck, eliciting a shiver, which makes her smile against Philippa’s skin. There’s no knowing exactly what might have happened next because Philippa’s cell phone begins ringing somewhere in the pile of their clothes that they’d left on the floor.

“Ugh. The reason for this call had better be awesome,” she says, sounding cranky. 

Michael watches appreciatively as Philippa slides across the bed, then wanders naked across the room and roots through the heap of clothing to retrieve her phone.

“Georgiou,” she says, and comes back to the bed. She sits on the end of it, listening intently. Michael sets aside the cookie tin, then moves down the bed to slide her mouth across the nape of Philippa’s neck. She’s just reaching around her lover to cup her breasts, when Philippa leaps off the bed, taps at the cell phone, then turns and tosses it to Michael.

“Say that again, Joann,” she instructs.

“Ava is here, and she wants to talk to you about producing a movie of _Top Hat and High Heels_. You’d star and co-direct with her.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Boss, I promise you, I’m not drunk, high, or otherwise impaired. Nor am I imagining this. Can you come down and see her?”

“We’ll be there,” Philippa says, and nods at Michael to cut the call.

“Ava,” Michael repeats, feeling a bit disbelieving herself. “ _The_ Ava? As in –”

“Apparently so,” Philippa says. “Come on, get your clothes on – we’ve got a Hollywood legend to go talk to.”

She begins tossing Michael’s clothes at her, and the two of them scramble to get dressed, doing their best to ensure they won’t look or smell like they’ve just spent over an hour having energetic sex together.

Then Philippa grabs Michael’s hand and brings it up to her face, kissing her knuckles. “I love you.”

Michael feels a surge of emotion that’s almost overwhelming in its intensity. “I love you, too.”

Philippa nods, then almost drags Michael through the apartment and down the three flights of stairs, then through the backstage area, and into the wings of the theatre, where they find Joann and Mr Saru talking to Ava DuVernay. 

“There you are,” Joann says, breathless for some reason. “I –” She cuts herself off, staring downward and it takes Michael a moment to realise that she’s just spotted hers and Philippa’s clasped hands. Michael sees her take a deep breath before she continues, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“Don’t be,” Philippa says, and holds out her right hand for Ava to shake. “It’s an honour to meet you, Ms DuVernay.”

“Likewise, Ms Georgiou.” She shakes hands with Philippa, then Michael, and says to Michael, “You were absolutely outstanding out there.”

“Thank you,” Michael says, suddenly feeling immensely shy.

“Come through to my office,” Philippa says. “And we can talk in relative peace and quiet.” She looks at Joann, “Can you get us some coffees, please? And see if you can scare up some pastries too, please. Michael and I need the sugar.”

“Yes boss,” Joann says, and hurries off, and Michael follows Philippa and Ava through to the former’s office, which is located fairly close to the stage door.

The three of them settle around the coffee table and within only a couple of minutes, Joann returns carrying a large brown paper bag which smells of good things to eat, and a cardboard cup carrier which holds three cups of coffee.

“You’re a star,” Philippa says, taking the cup carrier and doling out the coffees, which are labelled with their namesn. Michael, meanwhile, takes the paper bag and carefully tears it open along the seams, then spreads it open on the table with the half dozen pastries laid out on top.

“Would you like one?” Michael asks Ava, who shakes her head. 

“No, thank you. Coffee’s sufficient for me.”

Philippa gestures for Michael to take one, and she grabs a cinnamon Danish, and tries not to spill too many crumbs as she starts eating it. She drinks her coffee, and eats a couple more pastries as Philippa and Ava talk through the preliminary details of making a film of the show. She wonders if she can get one of them to pinch her as proof she’s awake since the day has taken on a dreamlike quality.

Not only is she now a famous Broadway musical star, she’s apparently also about to become a Hollywood movie star, and she and Philippa have become lovers. She definitely feels like her dreams are coming true all at once. It’s a tiny bit scary, but it’s also exhilarating.

_*** Transmission ends ***_


End file.
